


A White And Soundless Place: Flipside

by fadeverb



Category: In Nomine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/pseuds/fadeverb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the same set of events as the second chapter of <em>A White And Soundless Place</em>, told from a different PoV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A White And Soundless Place: Flipside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A White and Soundless Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946003) by [byzantienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/byzantienne/pseuds/byzantienne). 



Lanthano liked to think he wasn't prey to the pathetic fallacy. The sky was gray and the ground was wet because he had six more days of cleanup to go in Seattle--four, if he worked like Zabina was breathing down his neck, and he had no intention of doing that--and the weather had nothing to do with how he was feeling. The problem with thinking this, _I am not prey to the pathetic fallacy,_ was that it led directly to memory of discussing literature with Leo, including a twenty-minute drunken lecture that man had delivered on the uses of weather in Jane Austen novels.

Zabina would have called him sentimental, in that way she had that was neither sympathetic nor cruel. Adrian would've simply been cruel. Neither of them were around, so Lanthano could focus on the numbing routine of paperwork, loose ends, obscuring inconvenient trails that might lead back to coworkers and continuing projects.

Yuliang would've been sympathetic, and he was glad she was gone, too, because that was worse. Clean breaks were easy. There was nothing sharp or clean about letting go of someone he'd almost managed to keep.

He took a cigarette break because why not? The persona he'd chosen for the job still hung over him, somewhere between a con job and a Role. Lanthano had a Heart in Stygia and a cat in Korea, but Trey had American pop culture references, a cigarette habit, and a flashy smile. Convenient that the two people shared a haircut and much of their fashion sense. He worked through a single cigarette, out on the fire escape, even though Zabina wasn't there to disapprove of smoking inside, and spent those few minutes in a useless cycle of _don't think about that_ and _trying not to think about that only makes it worse_.

It was--tedious. Like a broken arm when no one nearby had the Song to fix it, so you just sat around aching and not getting anything out of the pain. It wasn't like he hadn't lost more important people. Someone he'd known a few weeks shouldn't register. Wouldn't register, once he got out of the country and peeled off this whole persona, stuffed it into the closet with his suitcase and extra IDs and the travel toothbrush.

Bless it, he'd lost _better_ people. And he didn't have Guo's excuse of youth and tattered Forces for getting that attached. Lanthano climbed back into the apartment, and locked the window behind him. Maybe he should have asked Yuliang to stay a few days, and let her annoy him right out of the attachment.

Except she was still angry. And that wouldn't help.

He answered three texts while putting together a glass of water in the kitchen, all of them from Yuliang. It was like thinking of her summoned her, or at least summoned two pictures of cats and a leading question about his schedule. His schedule was full, thank you very much, until she'd found something new to focus on. Something he didn't care about personally.

He walked out of the kitchen, and hit the wall.

There was that split second of blank, the _what_ reaction to the wholly unexpected, and he did not shout out because humans might hear and the first rule of shock was discretion. Discretion and defense. The glass broke in his hand, because Daosheng had shaken a few defensive moves into him so long ago they were nearly reflex.

("You don't have power," she said, "so what you need is an edge," and spent a whole night running him through one house after another in the vast city, showing him what broke dull and what broke sharp. Glass was always good; nearly as good as a knife, and less expected.)

Yuliang might've sliced through an artery. He sank the glass through cloth into muscle, and was shaken like a rat for the effort, with another slam into the wall afterward. Lanthano couldn't catch his breath, and one of his arms was twisted back. Locked in place.

"That was a very bad idea," said the man behind him.

Time to call for help? Not until he was sure on who, because this close up one whisper of disturbance would be like a klaxon, and sending messages for help wasn't any good if it got him killed. "--the fuck do you want," he tried, because if this was a human intruder he'd damn well die laughing at the irony.

But it wasn't likely, with that grip on him.

"Where is my partner?"

Maybe he was going to die laughing after all. Or just plain die. Somehow, he'd expected this kind of thing to happen _before_ Leo decided to walk right back into the loving embrace of his Djinn.

"Zhune," he said, and wondered if that asshole even remembered him, from back when. Probably not. The Djinn had never had much time for people who weren't his partner or immediately entertaining, and Lanthano had not made a point of being entertaining to the disreputable friends of coworkers in other countries. "Good for him, if he got away from you."

Wherever away was. There were worse places than with the Djinn, and he was not ready to hope that wary, amiable Calabite had made the right phone call.

"Does your Marquis let you out alone now that you've only got the one, Lanthano?" Zhune asked that so casually, as if the knife was still hidden and not laid out in plain sight. "I'm surprised there's no one watching your back. Where's my partner."

Not in Trauma, or a Djinn would know. Unsettling possibilities flitted through his mind. "I wouldn't tell you if I knew." And didn't have a good lie at hand, which was more of a pity.

"Couldn't even wait for her to come crawling to Chaixin like the rest of you, hm? Had to snatch her off the side of the road like a pack of baby Magpies who can't plan farther than the next big score." The Djinn had such a fucking steady voice it was a tell. Like poker players who stopped smiling when they had a good hand.

Lanthano weighed _We probably don't have him anyway or I would know_ against _Nothing I say will convince an angry Djinn_ and wondered if he was going to die under a misunderstanding. It was enough to make a Joker crack a smile. "Like you kept him in better condition?" he asked, shifted under that grip and found he just wasn't going to make any headway there. Not unless the Djinn got pissed enough to stop holding and start doing worse, which might make a gap. Maybe. There were too many instances of maybe in the current situation, including the _maybe I'm going to die_ part. "You used to at least _physically_ take care of your partners--"

He got two broken fingers out of accurately identifying one of the Djinn's sore spots, and the bonus reminder of the difference between a metaphorical broken bone and an actual one.

"Where is she."

"We don't have him." Lanthano tried the complete truth, experimentally, and his reward was growing pressure on a third finger that was only throbbing sympathetically so far, and he did not want another one broken, it was exactly like losing people, in that knowing recovery was near and possible didn't help at _all_ in the moment. "I wish we _did_." Give the Djinn the truth, and let him choke on it. "It would be so satisfying to tell you that, he deserves better than you, but no, he went right back and we _let_ him do it--"

The Djinn dragged him across the room and shoved him onto the couch. Caught that flick of a glance toward the exits (because they were both Magpies and they both knew where every single exit was) and said, "Don't try to get away. I'm between you and the door and I can outrun you."

That was true. Almost like they were making progress in the conversation.

Lanthano took a better look at his options, as long as no one was pretending he didn't have that in mind, and nodded. Vessels were cheap to heal, expensive to replace. And it's not like it was going to work. They didn't have Leo.

Probably.

"Good," said the Djinn, and took a gun from his ridiculously perfect suit. The kind of thing Zabina would wear, if she ever acquired a male vessel. Who did _house-breaking_ in that kind of clothing, much less manhandling and intimidation? It would've made sense if Henry was still with the man, but everyone knew how that had gone down.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "That's unnecessary."

The gun ended up pressed lightly against his forehead. So maybe the conversation wasn't going useful places. "At worst you'll lose the vessel." The Djinn took the safety off, while Lanthano thought about his lack of experience with guns, and whether he ought to fix that, and if he could fix that in a way that didn't involve any being pointed at him. "I know you have a phone. Take it out. Dial Chaixin, and then hand the phone to me. If you dial anyone else, or if you take out any other object, you'll wake up in Stygia."

 _Go ahead and call for help_ wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. What sane demon asked for a chat with a hostile Marquis?

The sort who spent a great deal of time chatting with his Prince directly. Standard rules didn't apply.

He drew out his phone, careful as if he was dealing with trigger-happy mortal authorities, and called the emergency number. Handed it over, and hoped while it was still ringing that Chaixin was there to answer, and not back home where even the emergency line got--who was answering it these days, anyway? Nhung? Who would have a delightful conversation and probably get him killed. Better to hope Chaixin was on the corporeal.

The Djinn took the phone. "Where's my partner, Chaixin?"

His face was doing that again, at whatever response she gave him. The lack of reaction that was a reaction.

"If you tell me what you've done with Leah, I might not shoot your employee." The Djinn said that without looking at him, the front of the gun resting there on his forehead as if there wasn't really any need to...fidget. Just get enough of a response to make the yes/no decision. Dead or not dead.

Lanthano tried to remember what people in the company had said about Trauma. Not much. Trauma was for people who didn't watch their exits, keep their sources happy, use the buddy system, file flight-plans. It didn't happen to people like _him_.

"All the best people do," said the Djinn, and his finger moved on the trigger. Not far enough. Maybe Trauma didn't feel like anything at all. A blackout drinking binge, that happened to take your vessel away. "But you're the closest, and the one with the penchant for kidnapping. My finger's on the trigger. Ten seconds. His vessel looks expensive. Shame to have to pay for a replacement."

 _Yes,_ Lanthano thought, _very expensive, and if I hit Trauma who will feed my cat?_ It was nonsensical. His boyfriend would feed his cat, and Wren would make sure his boyfriend stayed in line, and Nhung would keep checking on Wren, and Chaixin would watch out for Nhung, because that was the way of the world and the way of org charts. That was how sensible people operated, as opposed to people like Zhune who broke into apartments to break fingers and make threats because they couldn't keep track of their own partners, despite having a resonance designed for exactly that purpose.

"I'm flattered," said the Djinn, and there was no way to tell if that was good or bad. The man was a flatline of angry focus on a single point, even if he'd taken the wrong path to going after that point.

The call ended: he could tell that much from the muffled sound of the phone. And the Djinn was entirely blank for a second that took too long to pass, as if even he didn't know where to go from that point.

The Djinn took his finger off the trigger, and put the safety back on.

And just when Lanthano was starting to breathe again, hit him across the face with it.

The phone landed in his lap. Lanthano curled a hand over it, and did not say any number of things that were struggling to make it past his teeth. _Do you break every pretty thing you look at for too long?_ might yet get him shot.

"Good enough," Zhune said. "You get to live through the afternoon. Now hand over your wallet, Lanthano, and the keys to your car. I'm not about to bleed over mine, and you've ruined my trousers."

"The car keys are on the table in the front hall." Where Zabina had left them, because he enjoyed public transportation more than driving. He got enough time alone in the apartment as it was. Usually. "And I have to stand up to get my wallet. I hope you never find Leo."

That last bit wasn't what he meant to say, but something had to find its way out.

"I could still shoot you," said the Djinn. But his gun pointed towards the ground, casual trigger discipline right back in place, and he was already somewhere else, mentally. Following that single point.

"You won't," Lanthano said.

It was small comfort to be right about something.

#

Baolan was there in two hours, which was sooner than he'd expected anyone.

"Miserable sort of city, isn't it?" she said conversationally, and picked up the box of papers from the table. "Grab your luggage. The car's downstairs."

"The condo still needs--"

"Don't be an idiot," she said, and bumped a shoulder into his. "Look at your face. We'll get that fixed as soon as we've cleared the perimeter. Adrian's doing the check, and being a right asshole about it. Like he was up to anything important before we got here, and--did Zhune do that?"

Lanthano held up his hand. "Do you think _I_ did?"

"That was sympathy," Baolan said, "not surprise." She smiled, showing teeth. "We're keeping track of the details. Payback happens later, point by point."

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase with his hand that had all fingers working. "When?"

"When he's not watching for it," Baolan said. "Institutional memory is useful that way. We can hold grudges as a company longer than you or I can."

"I don't know," Lanthano said, and locked the door behind them for the last time. "I can hold a grudge a pretty long time."


End file.
